


Mellow Yellow

by what_the_buck



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Bucky is worried, Bullet wound, F/M, Flowers, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Injury, Whump, Worry, everyone survives, except hydra, gunshot wound, mission, yellow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_the_buck/pseuds/what_the_buck
Summary: You were yellow, always had been. Until the fateful day when you were red.ORReader gets shot and Bucky frets





	Mellow Yellow

For as long as Bucky could remember, you had been yellow. You weren’t physically yellow, obviously. You just radiated the feeling of being yellow. Every time Bucky was around you, he felt yellow. He felt everything yellow inside him. He could feel the yellow converse you wore, and the yellow hairband that kept your hair in the ponytail. He could feel the yellow sunflowers you kept in your window and adored. He could feel the yellow sun, that you liked to bask in whenever you were free. His favourite yellow was the little buttercup you kept tucked just behind your ear, hidden by your curls. He was the only one who ever seemed to notice it. Yellow just surrounded you, and you felt no shame in it.

You were in a meeting with him, getting briefed on a mission you would be going on. You were fiddling with a yellow string you kept around your wrist. Bucky had put it there. It was a small thing, but he liked giving you very mundane things, and you seemed to enjoy them. You always returned the favour, giving him a particularly shiny coin, or a tiny pressed buttercup, or a feather. He kept them in his mother’s old jewellery box. You had gone with him to the old house and found that it was abandoned with most of his belongings still there, which was a miracle in itself. Now he had bought the house and sat in it sometimes when he felt particularly down. Sometimes, you joined him, just touching his fingertips with your own, the short, yellow painted nails making a small tapping sound on the old flooring. They were always yellow, Bucky noticed.

Bucky was staring at those yellow nails. He was sat opposite you, on your way to the mission. You were in full black tactical gear, but you were still yellow. Your knives had a yellow hilt, and your nails were still yellow, and you still had a yellow hairband, and you still had your string around your wrist, and Bucky could just see the yellow flower peeking out from behind your hair. And you were still yellow in emotional ways. The way you traced lines between freckles was yellow, and your soft-almost-inaudible humming was yellow, and your gaze was yellow. You were the newest Avenger, still fairly inexperienced. You didn’t go on many missions with the Avengers, but the ones you went on were always the most enjoyable ones for Bucky. He loved turning to see you tie up one of the enemies with your vines. He loved staying with you while you made yellow flowers grow in the fields outside of the bases. Yellow flowers were something you always left behind, even if it was just one.

The quinjet landed and the doors opened. Steve was the first out, his shield already out. Natasha had her knives ready to go and Bucky had his gun cocked. You clenched your fists briefly and Bucky saw you pick a small senna flower out of your palm. You reached out to him and tucked it behind his ear.

“For luck,” you whispered. Bucky smiled at you.

“Thank you.” You smiled back at him before stepping out of the quinjet.

You were having the time of your life. Vines were tying up Hydra agents faster than they could come and you were tearing through them to the room where the intel was supposedly held. You didn’t even have to think about it anymore as you got rid of them. Bucky was close behind you, putting a bullet in the head of anyone you tied up. You grew a flower in every bullet wound; you didn’t like death and always grew beauty where there was ugliness. Bucky found it cute and hoped you wouldn’t stop. You made it to a room full of computers. Bucky slammed the door shut and you grew vines over it to lock it. You knew close to nothing about computers so Bucky dealt with that while you stood guard. You played absentmindedly with your powers, growing a small buttercup on your palm. Buttercups were your favourite simply for their tiny stature and innocent yellow colour. You heard fighting through your earpiece and winced slightly every time you heard a gunshot. Beyond that, though, it was silent. To any other, it would have been suspicious, but to you, it just meant you had done your job right. Being the least experienced came with that sort of naïvité. It was to be expected that someone with as little experience actually in the field wouldn’t pick up on that sort of thing.

That’s why it came as no shock to anyone but you when the sudden storm of Hydra agents appeared out of nowhere, guns blazing. You yelled for Bucky, holding out your hand, the yellow buttercup still there. Thick, green vines erupted from your body, crawling out from your shoulders and chest and running along your arms until you directed them at the agents. The vines pierced their hearts and you felt a tear creep down your cheek. You never wanted to kill people with your powers, but you didn’t have much of a choice in this situation. You needed to protect Bucky. Bucky was fully aware of the situation, but couldn’t risk the sensitive information the mission depended on. He looked up every now and again to make sure you were handling it and felt overwhelmingly relieved when he saw that you had resorted to building an enormous dome around the two of you.

You grunted slightly as you built the dome around yourself and Bucky. Building domes were not usually your first choice as they took so long and used up so much energy. You had just about finished it when a Hydra agent slid under a desk, gun ready.

There was a shot.

Your chest burned as something ripped through it.

You fell, and for the first time in your life, you weren’t yellow; You were red. Bright, bright red.

Bucky screamed. This wasn’t right. He dove over to you, kicking the Hydra agent hard enough to elicit a snap from the man’s neck. The man fell to the ground limply, just as you had done moments earlier. Your hand was resting next to you and Bucky saw the small buttercup, tainted with red. He couldn’t help but see you in the tiny wildflower.

“Bucky,” you groaned, hissing through the pain.

“Hey, I’m here. You’re alright. It’s okay,” Bucky whispered gently, pressing a hand to your chest. Your back arched in pain. “Steve, I need medevac. We’re in the intel room. (Y/N)’s been shot.” You heard a faint crackling from his comm, which you assumed was Steve replying. You felt the ground beneath your back, the dirt and small rocks from the bottom of well-worn soldiers’ boots. You felt the warmth of a single stream of light that penetrated the dome. You felt Bucky’s fingers grabbing desperately at your wound, begging for the hole to close miraculously; for you to pull through.

“Come on now,” Bucky whispered. “You’re alright.” You blinked up at him, trying to make sense of the world around you. You weren’t used to such hyperfocus. You’d never been shot before, how were you supposed to be accustomed to the rush of adrenaline that came with it? You gasped out another breath, realising it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Bucky increased the pressure on your wound and you released a low, whining sound.

“Hey, you’re alright. Just gotta wait for Stevie is all. He’ll cover us and we’ll get you some proper help, hmm?” Bucky promised, speaking softly. As if on cue, there was the sound of footsteps and a loud cracking as Steve used his shield to break through the vines.

“Oh my God,” Steve exhaled, bending down next to you. Bucky glanced up at Steve.

“Can you cover us while I carry her and run back to the helicarrier?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve called Bruce, so he’s ready for her. Cho also knows,” Steve said. Bucky nodded and stood up, you in his arms. The red of your blood mixed with the yellow of your soul, basking Bucky in a sunset orange. Sunset, the end of the day. The end of a life. Bucky was suddenly more determined to get you to Bruce. He started sprinting.

You opened your eyes, blinking blearily as you took in your surroundings. White walls. White ceiling. White sheets and white bandages around your chest. You glanced to your right and saw Bucky. His soft hair hung over his face and he was slouched awkwardly in a position that could only bring pain. His breaths came in a steady rhythm as he snored softly.

“Bucky?” You asked softly. His head shot up and his eyes snapped open. You felt bad for waking him up, but he really needed to get some food and sleep in a proper bed.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “Oh god, you’re awake.” You nodded slowly.

“How long has it been?” You asked.

“A-about three days. They had you hopped up on painkillers and sleep meds,” he admitted.

“You’ve been here for three days?” You asked him. He nodded sheepishly.

“Couldn’t leave my best girl all alone, now could I?” He grinned at you. You shook your head.

“Buck….” He stared at you. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you accept him and want him there when she was weak. He was still getting over the fact that you would let his black leech on your yellow.

“Kiss me,” he said suddenly. You looked up at him.

“Now?” You asked. He nodded.

“I mean if you want to. I just…we’ve known each other for like two months but every time I see you I just feel this surge of-“

“Bucky.”

“-and I just needed to get that out-“

“Buck,” you laughed slightly at his rambling.

“-but if you don’t wanna then that’s oka-“

“Bucky. Stop. It’s okay. I wanna kiss you too,” you interrupted. That stopped him. He made eye contact with, properly this time.

“You….you do?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. A grin crossed his face as he leant forward, letting his lips meet yours. You had been yellow, and red. Perhaps Bucky had even turned you a little bit black for a while. But now you were something you had never been. Now, you were white. Now you were pure, untainted, whole. You were radiant and new. You were the white wildflowers and the fluffy white clouds. You were white like Bucky was black.


End file.
